


Not the Sentimental Sort

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-12
Updated: 2010-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:19:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikola isn't really known for compassion anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Sentimental Sort

Nikola didn't believe in kindness just for the sake of being kind. It was his belief that no one really bought into that, they just went along with it for appearance sake. Humans were all bastards, and the only time they did anything nice was in the hopes that someone, somewhere might take notice and pat them on the back. He was no different. He slipped the note into the slot on Helen's building, rang the bell, and hurried down the steps. He didn't want to be there when she answered the door to give the appearance he was just being a good friend.

He hurried down the street and, glancing back to make sure he wasn't being observed, ducked into an alley that ran beside Helen's home. He had been here many times, but never when Helen was actually home. He found a crate that he'd left and climbed into it, crouching with his elbows on his knees as he craned his neck to look through the window to the foyer of Helen's home.

He couldn't resist a gasp when she appeared. She bent to pick up the note and frowned when she read her name on the front. He smiled as she tore open the envelope and withdrew the soft, expensive paper within. _"Dearest Helen, Following John's unexpected departure, I am certain you have felt the need for companionship. It is with this in mind..."_

Helen wadded up his missive. He stared in shock as she turned and dropped it into a wastebasket. She couldn't even have read the first paragraph, let alone his truly moving offer to be her shoulder in this time of need. How _dare_ she? He waited until she returned upstairs before he left his post and walked to the window. He slipped the lock and pushed the frame up, climbing inside with nary a sound; his gift had granted him so many wonderful abilities.

Nikola took the paper from the refuse, smoothed it out, and stared at his words in anger. Helen should at least know how he felt. Even if she said no, he at least deserved to be heard out. Would she have slammed the door in his face if he'd tried saying these things? No, that would be the height of rudeness. He carried the note upstairs, prepared to read it while Helen sat and listened, appropriately cowed.

At the second floor landing, he stopped and listened. He could hear Helen's breathing from the library and he turned on his heel. He stormed up to the door, which was slightly ajar. Warm flickering light poured from within, the glow of a fire, and he paused to make sure Helen didn't have company.

Helen was sat on the divan, leaning back with her body turned toward the fire. Her dress was drawn up, along with her petticoats, and Nikola's eyes darkened at the sight of her bloomers. He gripped the doorframe and ran his eyes over the bare calf below the frills of her underthings. Helen had one hand curled under her chin, her face turned toward the fire to present him with her profile. Her eyes were closed, and her free hand gently smoothed the material of her underclothes as if trying to eradicate a stubborn wrinkle.

Nikola's face warmed as he watched, sure he should leave and certain he was unable to do so. He stepped back, a little further out of sight, and quickly unfastened his trousers. If she wasn't going to give him the benefit of reading his words, this was the least she could offer him. He wrapped his hand around his cock and leaned forward.

Helen had extended three fingers and was rubbing them in a slow rhythm against the crux of her legs, pressing the material of her drawers against herself. He could hear her breathing, rough and eager, and he could almost taste the salt of her sweat. Her lips parted in an almost silent, silent to anyone but him, sigh and he resisted the urge to grunt. The knowledge he had to remain absolutely silent was an added thrill.

His cock was hard in his hand, and he slowly stroked its length as he watched Helen moved her hand. He brushed his thumb over the head and began to move his hand faster. If he walked in like this, would Helen send him away? Would she shout obscenities at him as she pulled her dress back down and refuse to ever see him again? Possible. But there always remained the possibility that she would be just far enough that she would allow him what he had wanted for so long. That she would allow him to scratch his itch in return for satisfying hers.

Helen arched her back and the material of her dress stretched across her breasts. He wanted to tear the material away, expose her breasts to the warm air of the room. He wanted to tease the nipples with his thumb until they stood erect, and bow his head to suckle them as he thrust deep into Helen's warmth. He bared his teeth and moved his hand faster, the moisture at the tip of his cock smearing against his palm and then spread to the rest of his shaft. He wouldn't last long, but he wanted to try to time his finish with Helen's.

He forced himself to open his eyes as Helen lifted her hips off the couch. Dainty and elegant even in the throes of passion, Nikola wanted to make her lose control. Wanted to make her shout for him to take her. The thought of her voice shouting his name in passion was too much, and he looked down at himself. The idea of making a mess on the threshold of Helen's sanctum, a place she was sure to see it and know she'd been seen, was appealing. But he instead wrapped his ruined note around the head of his cock as it began to throb, thrusting as his come spilled into the paper with quick, erratic spurts.

He pulled his hand back and quickly pulled his pants back up. He heard Helen's orgasm, her desperate whimper breaking off mid-point and becoming a welcoming sigh, and then hurried down the stairs. He kept the note in his hand, wadded up to keep any evidence from spilling out. He left the house as he had entered, dropping silently into the alley before he pulled the window shut behind him.

Nikola tossed the soiled note into a garbage can as he passed. So Helen wouldn't know the depths of his feelings. That was all right. He had never really been known for his compassion, anyway. He straightened his jacket, made sure the front of his trousers had escaped stain, and walked down the street with his hands clasped behind his back.


End file.
